


A Perfect Prism

by Trobadora



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Gen, Jack's Missing Years, Time Agency, Time Lord senses, Time War, Warning: Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-07
Updated: 2013-01-07
Packaged: 2017-11-23 23:54:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/627937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trobadora/pseuds/Trobadora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>"It's brilliant, in a way, isn't it?" Jack says, conversationally. "An Artron Suppressor. Just about the only way to incapacitate a Time Lord."</i> - Takes place between <i>Journey's End</i> and <i>The Next Doctor</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Perfect Prism

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Yamx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yamx/gifts).



**Prologue**

It's blinding. Not the light it's emitting, of course; that could be dampened easily enough. No, not the light - brighter than light, a bright blot upon creation. All the readings are blank, all the displays empty. Nothing comes through.

Nothing, until it does. Nothing, and everything: a spike or a beam, radiance transcendent - the viewscreen still shows nothing; the eye sees nothing; but the mind screams _light_ nonetheless.

A blinding beam of nothing at all, then - first in one direction, then another, a prism of not-light reflecting itself into space. And in that beam, in its radiance: a sun, a planet, an entire solar system _flickers_.

This the sensors do see: the system is there. Its gravitic influence, its mass bending space around it. Its electromagnetic radiation, the sun's own and the noise of civilisation beamed into space. It's there, and then it's not. 

The Time Agent holds his breath, as he does every time. There is nothing the Agency can to but watch as, in the not-light of the not-prism, existence itself flickers.

And then it's there again. When the beam stops this time, the system is still there. So far, it has always ended like this.

Or has it? When the beam cuts through empty space, was it empty before? Or has this temporal singularity erased something that was there, erased it so completely that it never was? Caught in the rewritten stream of time, who could tell?

 _Not we_ , the Time Agent thinks, desperately. _No one can. You'd have to stand outside of time to see, a vantage point beyond linear time._

There are myths about such beings, of course. But myths are all they are. Meanwhile, the prism remains, and there is nothing to be done.

~*~

**Time Agency Compound 334/gamma/42-apple-1**

The Doctor's head is spinning. He feels like _he_ is spinning, adrift in zero gravity with nothing to hold on to, nothing to ground him. Gravity has disappeared; there is no up and down any more. The planets, the suns, the galaxy have stopped moving, and there is only nothing. 

He remembers, vaguely, walking into a fairground on Trelundra, hoping to find some distraction. And then, nothing.

There is a flat surface under him, but it doesn't feel real. Even his headache, even the beat of his own hearts doesn't feel real. He's lost all orientation, all sense of time and place and being. All of his senses are reaching out, frantically, trying to get hold of _something_ , but they only grasp at empty air.

~*~

There is a hissing sound, and a clink, and steps approaching. Someone's coming, unreal as everything else. The Doctor doesn't even have the energy to lift his head. When he tries to ground himself in his body, curled up tight, all he feels is freefall.

He's shivering. Shuddering. It's tearing him apart. How much longer can he hold up under this? It's vibrating against his very being, draining him more by the very minute. A hand raps him on the back, none too gently, but he feels nothing.

Can't feel anything, like this. It's killing him.

"Time Lord," a voice snaps.

He jerks, at that - the voice ... even if he can't feel a thing, he still knows the voice. He wrenches his eyes open. 

A young man in a Time Agency uniform, hair neatly combed, no smile at all on those lips, blue eyes hard and narrowed.

"Jack," he gasps.

Jack. Here, now. How is that possible? The man didn't know him when they met the first time. Had certainly never met a Time Lord before. There's something here - something he can't quite grasp. But his brain's not up to its usual speed, and he lets it go for now.

The man gives him an irritated look. "I've used that name. Do I know you?"

"Not yet," the Doctor manages, knowing in the same moment he shouldn't have said that.

Jack gives him a humourless smirk. "That so? Haven't you done enough messing with time already?"

What? But he hasn't the energy to get indignant. His eyes slide shut again.

Jack backhands him across the face.

He opens his eyes again, gasping. Gasping for air, although there's quite enough. Gasping for something else that isn't there at all.

"It's brilliant, in a way, isn't it?" Jack says, conversationally, and lifts a device in his hand. Some sort of remote control, it must be. "An Artron Suppressor. Just about the only way to incapacitate a Time Lord. I thought these things were just a myth - but of course, Time Lords are a myth too."

It's killing him. He's a Time Lord - Artron energy is at the very heart of his being. He can't feel time any more, can't feel himself, can't feel anything. And what's left inside him is a slowly dying flame. 

"What do you want?" he rasps. "Because you're killing me, in case you couldn't tell. Is that what you're after? There are easier ways." 

He shivers. Not much longer now, and what a horrible way to go, isolated from time. Isolated from his very being. Can this really be how it ends?

The Time Agent seems to hesitate. "That bad?" There's no sympathy in his voice.

"Worse," he admits. Not that that's any revelation - if he looks even half as bad as he feels, anyone can see he's an utter wreck.

Jack gives him a dark look. He knows this man. He knows him, but he doesn't dare hope. 

"Your time machine." Jack says.

The Doctor blinks without understanding. Jack must realise, because he elaborates: "You asked what we want. Your time machine, of course. You yourself, we'd just as soon never have laid eyes on."

Like hell. Over his dead body.

All too literally, unfortunately. But he won't give the TARDIS to them. Better that she should die with him.

"Don't - don't do this," he stammers. 

Jack shakes his head and lifts his remote-control device. The Doctor hasn't even the strength to try and grasp for it. "Tell me how to get inside, and I'll tone it down for you."

Jack was right, he thinks, incongruously, back then, when they first met: not to be trusted.

Maybe ... what can they do with the TARDIS? Even if they get inside, they'll never make her move. She'll never co-operate. Maybe ... maybe if he holds out long enough, he can find a way to get out of this.

Besides, this is still Jack.

"You first," he forces out.

Jack smiles. It's nothing like the smiles he's used to from this man, and it makes him shudder. But he lifts the device in his hand, manipulates it - 

\- and oh, oh, blessed - he can feel it, Time, himself, it's all still there, he's still there, he can feel - - 

"Now," Jack says, "before I turn it back up. No stalling."

He sits up, feeling stronger already, even from the small trickle he's been granted. 

"You can't", he says. Jack's hand moves back to the device, and he almost shouts - "Wait!"

Jack's eyes are hard, but he gives him the chance to explain.

"I jammed the lock. You've got the key - I'm sure you've found it already, among my things - but it's useless. I could unjam it, but not here."

"All right," Jack drawls. "That is so convincing."

He takes a deep breath. "Seriously. It's a time machine. None of it works under the suppressor. You _can't_ get inside - the inside doesn't exist here and now."

"So we move it." 

"And then you need me to unjam it." 

He's not prepared for Jack's laugh - cold, so cold. "Sure. Right after we install you as king of the galaxy." And his hand moves towards the device again.

"Don't!" 

It's a plea, and Jack - still Jack, after all - hesitates. But then his lips press together in a thin line, and after a moment he says, "We need it. You give it to us, or ..." A brow rises. "Last chance."

No. No, no, no - if only he could think clearly ...

Maybe if he can figure out why Jack is doing this, why he thinks this is justified ... because he wouldn't do it otherwise; the Doctor is sure of that. The Doctor knows this man, to the heart, to the soul.

"What have I done to you?" he asks. "Why are you doing this?"

Jack hesitates. Looks at him, considering. Finally shrugs, apparently not seeing any reason not to say it. "The Time War."

The Doctor flinches.

Jack nods to himself, having scored a hit. "I'm not sure what exactly it is your people did, but we see the fallout all over the universe. The destruction. Timelines going out of whack. Until it started, we thought the Time Lords were a myth. Something beautiful and good. Now? Tell me again why we should have any pity for the likes of you."

He swallows. It's true, he knows - all true, and he should never have left the Time Agency to mop up after him. They have no way of knowing why he paid that price. They only see the side effects, and don't know the horrors they avoided. 

"Pity?" he whispers, harshly. "I don't want pity from you. You've no idea what you're meddling with. You've no idea - no idea at all. Just faint shockwaves, and you can't see the event that caused them. You have no idea ..."

"I've seen Reapers devour an entire planet. You want to tell me we should just bow to your superior wisdom and accept that?"

"I'm sorry," he whispers. "It's not the only planet that's gone. So much is gone. Such a high price. But it was worth it." He has to believe that.

Jack isn't exactly wavering. But the Doctor has managed to spark his curiosity, at least. "Tell me why," Jack demands. "What could be worth that kind of a price?"

"It could have been worse," the Doctor says simply. He thinks, quickly. He needs something, anything, to bargain with. "I can tell you it all. More than that, I can show you." He rubs a tired hand over his face. Time for a gamble. The highest gamble of all. He draws himself up a little, looks Jack in the eyes. Those distant eyes, to whom he is a stranger. "If I did give you what you want, what guarantee would I have that you won't just kill me anyway?"

He's no fool; he's not so blinded by the friend Jack will one day become. Right here, right now, Jack would not hesitate to kill him. He's completely sure of himself - and Jack, much like himself, is capable of many things if he believes it necessary. 

Jack's lips pull into a wry grin. There, that's better; that's more like him. "You'll just have to trust us," he deadpans. Then, more seriously, "Senseless death isn't _our_ department."

The Doctor doesn't wince this time. He doesn't have an answer, though.

"You're wasting my time," Jack decides and lifts his device again, threatening.

"I said I could show you," the Doctor reminds him. "The truth about the Time War. I'll show you, if you let me. And I'll tell you how to get into my ship if you listen." Trusting Jack, even a Jack who doesn't know him yet: it's his only option, right now.

"How?" Jack makes an impatient gesture. "Out with it, then."

"I'm telepathic," he merely says.

Jack laughs again - a hard, unpleasant sound. ""I should let you into my mind, and compromise myself? Yeah, right."

"You want answers, don't you? You can have them. You can have it all - the Time War, the TARDIS - that's my ship - all of it. Just let me show you."

Jack's lip curls, and he rises, shaking his head in disgust. "I'll think about it." 

He clearly believes it's a trap, and for anyone else it would be. The Doctor would try, at least - and he might succeed and bend the Time Agent's mind to his will, or he might fail and die, crushed by the emptiness the suppressor creates.

But this is Jack, so instead he's taking a different risk. Because even though he doesn't know this man, will not know him for years to come, he is sure of one thing: Jack Harkness, or whatever his name is, is a good man. 

Jack throws him another dark look as he stands in the door, and leaves - not before dialling up his device again. The Doctor collapses onto his cot, hollowed out. Barely daring to hope. Barely daring.

~*~

Later - he's not sure how much later; time has no meaning any more, and he can feel none of it - later, people come and move him. He barely feels it; his centre of gravity is gone, and all movement is wrong anyway. Everything feels still even when it isn't. He's finding it hard to breathe.

Then he's alone again. Time passes - must pass, as it always does, just beyond his reach. Then Jack returns, and looks down at the Doctor unhappily. 

"We do want your ship," he says darkly, and dials down his device minutely.

The Doctor takes a breath, feeling reality come back to him. He struggles to find his bearings, and looks around. They seem to be in some kind of an isolation room. 

Jack is looking at the shivering wreck of a Time Lord in front of him, suppressor control in hand, his expression closed. "All right," he says. "My superiors are willing to risk it. And I'd be lying if I said I wasn't curious. But don't try anything stupid - this is hardly the only control. And we're under close supervision here. You're not getting out of this, understand? Not unless you convince _us_ to let you. Even if you manage to compromise me, you won't get anywhere with it."

The Doctor merely nods. He's already decided this is the risk he'll take. "I won't compromise you," he offers. Jack won't believe it, but it doesn't matter. It's a solemn promise nonetheless. He won't mess with Jack's mind. 

And he has faith in Jack.

He looks at Jack's remote. "You'll need to dial this down some more."

Jack's expression tenses, but he knows he has no way of telling whether it's really necessary or not. He nods, and dials back the suppressor. 

The Doctor breathes deeply, feeling - for the first time in what seems like forever - the asteroid they're on hurling through space on its course around a distant sun, the sun's rotation with its galaxy, the universe itself expanding. Timelines curling and spinning outward from here, from everywhere. _Life._

He doesn't let himself revel in it for more than a moment. Instead he moves, presses a hand to Jack's temple, presses his mind against Jack's. 

_Jack._

So familiar, yet unfamiliar, what unfolds before him. Surface thoughts only, of course - Jack is a trained Time Agent, after all, and is blocking everything deeper. Human minds are small compared to Time Lord minds, all turned in on themselves and closed to the world. Still, Jack's defences are formidable. The Doctor isn't at all sure he could break through if he tried; the Master certainly never managed. Time Lord telepathy isn't generally intrusive, after all. 

But this is all the access he needs.

He shows him.

He shows Jack the truth, the terrible truth, unleashes the memories he's barely let himself look at since. Floods Jack's mind with the horror of it all, and feels him - feels him, holding up under the onslaught, so brave, so strong, so determined to see, to know - - 

And then he suddenly realises what is happening here.

His Jack didn't remember this. This Jack won't remember this. At some point, the memories will be taken, and not only these. Two years of Jack's life ... What is happening here is a temporal circle, closing before his eyes. He'll have to figure out the rest later, but for now, there are more important things.

When he's done, when he's shown everything he has to show, he lets go of the man. Jack is breathing harshly, his fists clenched, his eyes squeezed shut. But he's holding up.

Slowly, his breathing calms. He opens his eyes, looks at the Doctor as if seeing him for the first time. 

The Doctor doesn't flinch, doesn't turn away under the force of that gaze. Doesn't let himself hide from the man who knows - who now knows the truth of what he did. All of what the Doctor did, terrible and necessary and unforgivable as it was.

Jack looks at him for the longest time, face unreadable. And then, abruptly, he reaches for the remote control and switches the Artron Suppressor off. All the way off.

The Doctor nearly collapses under the strength of returned feeling in parts of himself that have been almost dead since that thrice-cursed thing was switched on.

Jack grasps his shoulders, holds him up. "Are you okay?" he asks. Different. Less harsh. Closer to the man the Doctor knows.

The Doctor snorts a bitter laugh. "Now you know," he says, and averts his gaze after all. _This is what you should condemn me for_ , he thinks, and because they're touching, skin to skin, bare palm against bare arm, because their minds are still turned towards each other, he knows Jack can hear him. _Not what you thought before. Now you know ... I'm worse than you thought._

Out loud, he adds, "I'd have spared you that, if I could have thought of something else."

"It's all right," Jack replies. "I'm all right." And his thoughts add, _Never. I'll never condemn you for that._

It rolls over him, a wave of grief and compassion and _respect_ , of all things, and the Doctor shudders as they look at each other, the shared memories a bridge between them. 

Then the Artron suppressor suddenly switches on again at full force, and the Doctor collapses to the floor. His last thought is, _Not Jack's doing._

~*~

When he comes to himself again, he's back in his cell, and the suppressor has clearly been switched off. A good sign; very good. The Doctor takes the time to reorient himself, and waits.

When Jack comes in this time, he's grimacing. "Well, that's done," he says. "How are you?"

"Better," the Doctor says. It's the understatement of the millennium. "So you convinced your people you're not compromised."

"All the tests came up clean," Jack replies tersely. Not anyone's idea of a good time, apparently. But it's done now. Then Jack sighs. "We still do need your ship, you know."

The Doctor groans. "Of course you do," he says. "Humans, always so greedy. It's never enough, is it? You always have to grab everything you can get your fingers on, you always -"

"Shut up," Jack interrupts him. "You have no right to complain, _Time Lord_." It still sounds like a curse. "Besides, it's not like that."

"What then?" His mind must be more addled than he'd thought; he hadn't even wondered what they wanted the TARDIS for. Greed, he'd thought, the natural motive. Something else he hadn't even considered.

"Regardless of what you might believe, we're not actually in the business of harming others. Or stealing their belongings. Not even a Time Lord's." Jack gives him a wry grin that almost feels real. "Much as it pains me to admit, our technology isn't as good as yours. We don't have the ability to do what needs to be done." He takes a deep breath. "I'll trust you, Doctor. What I've seen in your mind - no one could fake that. And our tests have proved that I'm not compromised, so my superiors are willing to go for it. We'll let you go, under one condition. You have to fix something for us, something we can't fix for ourselves."

Well. That was unexpected. "And what guarantee do you have that I'll actually do it, once I'm out of here?"

"As I said, we'll trust you." Jack smirks. "And you'll have to take one of us with you."

The Doctor really should have seen that coming.

But oh, why not? It's not as if Jack's history hasn't been messed with enough already. And he still doesn't know how exactly the circle closes.

"All right," he says. "You tell me what needs doing, and if I agree that it should be done, I'll take you with me."

Jack nods.

When he explains, cold dread shivers up the Doctor's spine. The _Negativity_. He'd thought it had burnt out.

~*~

They're standing in front of the TARDIS. Jack hands him his sonic screwdriver. Finally. He finds the correct setting and unjams the lock, then opens the door. "Well, what are we waiting for? Off we go."

As they step into the TARDIS together, for the very first time, he already knows how it must end.

~*~

**Epilogue**

It's taken them a while, mapping the shards of the _Negativity_. The final and worst weapon of the Time War, ripping reality right out of itself. When it cooled down, nothing should have remained. But instead it splintered, and is still reflecting itself, reflecting its last desperate and destructive blow across space and time, taking with it whatever it finds.

Collateral damage. Still, even now. But it will be over soon. He'll close it down, no matter the cost.

He looks at Jack, and receives a terse nod. Together, they initiate the materialisation routine. The TARDIS plunges into the prism, and not-light floods her, inside and out.

~*~

When he comes to, he's alone in the TARDIS, and the timeline has been rewritten. He already knows where Jack will have found himself: near two years in the future, and with no memories of the Prism. Or of him.

They'll meet again, in Jack's timeline. Soon, they'll meet again. But all of this will be forgotten. For anyone but him, it'll never have been.

Like too many things.

~*~

_"They leave. Because they should. Or they find someone else. And some of them, some of them forget me. I suppose, in the end, they break my heart."_


End file.
